


Please Send Me a Felon

by overratedantihero



Series: Strange is the Call of This Strange Man [6]
Category: Batman (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Controlling Behavior, Cuddling, Excessive Literary Reference, Fluff, M/M, Reference to Poaching, Sneaking Around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 07:38:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13782858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overratedantihero/pseuds/overratedantihero
Summary: Dick's rendezvouses have ceased to be rendezvouses,and have instead crossed into "youthful rebellion."  Slade is nonplussed.





	Please Send Me a Felon

**Author's Note:**

> Quick Dick/Slade to get it out of my system. Also, just because I feel the need to say it: this is not a healthy relationship or dynamic. But Slade is a really complex and emotionally stunted character, and I've enjoyed exploring that.

Jason peeled into the Cave and parked his bike alongside the Batmobile. He dismounted, propped the motorcycle on its center stand, and then plucked off his helmet, leaving the mask for the sense of security. It wasn’t until then that he noticed the eerie atmosphere.

“What the fuck?” Jason asked, squinting as he surveyed the cave.

 Tim paused his trek to the Cave’s showers and shot Jason a funny look. “If you stopped shooting guns in enclosed spaces that ringing in your ears would stop and you could quit shouting in the Cave after patrol,” Tim muttered. Jason shot him a withering glare.

“Have you considered nortriptyline? It’s shown to have some medicinal use for individuals suffering from tinnitus,” Damian offered, too consumed with petting Alfred the Cat to be petty or sharp. Alfred the Cat wasn’t generally allowed below the Manor, but Jason filed that question away for the time being.

“No, I don’t have fucking tinnitus—has anyone noticed it’s fucking _quiet_?”

“Language, Jason,” Bruce scolded from where he sat in front of the Batcomputer, squinting at a diagram of some sort of weapon. Probably a Justice League issue. Jason didn’t care. He was beginning to feel as if he were the only one recognizing that there was something _off_ about the room. Dick might—oh. Dick.

“Where’s Goldie?” Jason asked, realizing that it was the absence of post patrol Dick that had him on edge. Nightwing would normally be either tending to the younger siblings or hanging over Bruce’s shoulder to go over the mission debrief. But he wasn’t within eyesight, the showers were quiet, hadn’t even seen his motorcycle. The room shifted as everyone else noted the absence.

Tim glanced around and titled his head. “He was on patrol with us. I saw him.”

“Grayson is _loud_ , he chattered the entire time. We all know he was with us, Drake,” Damian scoffed, laying down to let he cat pad across his chest.

“He rode with Damian and I,” Bruce murmured, pushing away from the monitors to survey he Cave. “He left the vehicle when we did.”

Jason smirked. World’s Greatest Detective couldn’t even keep track of his favored son.

Just then, Alfred announced himself with a cough. “You would all do well to note that an entrance to the Cave was ajar until just a moment ago.”

Oh. So that’s how Alfred the Cat snuck in.

Bruce frowned. “Someone infiltrated—”

“No, sir, it appears someone simply left without properly sealing the Grandfather Clock,” Alfred interrupted. “And I will presume that someone entered the Manor still in costume and without a shower given your recent return. I ask that the rest of you remember to adhere to Manor boundaries.”

Bruce’s frown somehow, impossibly, deepened. “Nightwing abruptly left after patrol, through the Manor, in costume. That’s not like Dick.”

“And yet,” Jason said, “he did it. So, it is like Dick.”

Both Alfred and Bruce shot him a _look_ , and so Jason excused himself to the showers. When he returned, Damian had showered and changed too and was headed to Alfred’s elevator with the bouncing intent that only a 13-year-old could possess.

“Damian, Dick didn’t answer his phone? Communicator?” Jason called. Damian didn’t pause or even look back at Jason.

“No. And according to Pennyworth, his bedroom window is open.”

Jason snorted. So maybe the Golden Boy wasn't too golden to tarnish after all. 

* * *

 

“Pretty bird, you smell terrible,” Slade offered as Dick peeled his sweat soaked uniform from his body. Dick stuck his tongue out at Slade.

“That’s what happens when I get an encrypted message that you’re in the _Manor_ before I’ve had time to shower after patrol. You can’t do that Slade, Bruce’ll find you.”

Slade stretched out, shirtless and lounging like a panther on the king-sized bed in Dick’s Gotham penthouse. Dick’s Gotham penthouse which was under Bruce Wayne’s name. Dick had covered the massive glass walls to prevent anyone glancing out nearby windows from witnessing Deathstroke the Terminator and Nightwing in a Wayne residence, but this was nevertheless risky behavior. Tim, Damian, Cass, Steph, Kate- they’d all borrowed the penthouse from time to time. Dick didn’t come to Gotham frequently enough to keep the space to himself.

“And if he does?” Slade asked, clearly unconcerned even as Dick’s eyes flicked to the doors and windows every few seconds. “I’ve fought the Bat before. I’ve even won.”

That drew Dick’s attention back to him, as Slade knew it would. “Don’t fight Bruce,” Dick warned. “He has containment units in the Cave, I swear he’d lock me in one if he found us like this. At least until you were out of Gotham.”

Slade grinned a Cheshire grin. “Then I’ll find you in Bludhaven. After which we’ll find ourselves in Tanzania,” Slade murmured. “Where we’ll hunt elephant poachers.”

Tension drained from Dick’s shoulders and he bit his lip to mute his grin. He finished undressing and sauntered towards the bathroom. Before he disappeared out of side, he tossed behind his shoulder, “We can’t kill them, but I’d humor gathering them up and dropping them outside the nearest Wildlife Conservation Society. Neatly packaged and unarmed, of course.”

Dick disappeared around the corner but still shouted, “And don’t think I forgot about your hunting history!” Slade could hear the running water, and so he was sure to project his voice when he shot back,

“ _Hunting tigers ceased to interest me some years ago. No animal had a chance with me anymore, so I had to invent a new animal to hunt_.”

Wet slaps of running feet preceded Dick hurling his dripping body back into sight just to shout, “Oh my _god_ , do not quote _The Most Dangerous_ Game at me, you psychopath!”

Slade’s laughter followed Dick as Dick returned to his shower. When Dick finished, he dried himself and tugged on a pair of briefs and t-shirt before he came back to the bedroom, now dark while Slade read on his tablet. Dick did a cartwheel before crawling into the bed, burrowing under the covers and pressing himself as close to Slade as he could, given that Slade was still laid out on top of the bedding.

“What was that?” Slade asked him, glancing away from his tablet to look at Dick. Dick wiggled.

“I didn’t get a chance to stretch after patrol. It felt good,” Dick explained, nuzzling Slade’s side. Slade flinched and frowned briefly at the sensation of wet hair against his bare skin.

“Are you up for anything tonight, or do you want to sleep?”

Dick considered the offer, but a yawn settled it for him. “Sleep. It was a long patrol. How long are you in Gotham for?”

“A week,” Slade said, setting the tablet aside and crawling under the blankets to pull Dick, wet hair and all, closer against him. Dick happily snuggled up, resting his head on Slade’s chest.

“If we go to Tanzania, I have to find some sort of excuse for the family,” Dick murmured. Slade chuckled.

“I don’t know why you think they don’t already know.”

Dick frowned and lifted his head. “Do you know something that I don’t?”

Slade kissed his forehead and said sweetly, “I know there were at least four bugs in this room before you went to take a shower. I destroyed them all while you were gone, but I haven’t swept the rest of penthouse yet.”

The color drained from Dick’s face, but Slade shook his head. “They would have done something by now if they were going to do anything at all tonight. Rest easy, little bird. Tomorrow we’ll spend the night somewhere more discreet. Besides, you have a mission to fulfill. You’re keeping a dangerous mercenary off the streets in The Batman’s city,” Slade murmured, voice lilting sardonically for the last couple of sentences. Dick rolled his eyes, but settled back down against Slade.

“Bruce probably thinks you’re playing some sort of game,” Dick murmured into his skin. “And he’s staking out while he waits for clues.”

“I am playing a game,” Slade said, carding his fingers through Dick’s hair.

“’The most committed man is the one who loses?’" Dick quoted Slade's own words, a hint of bitterness to his tone even though he didn't move away from Slade. "Damian told me that line, about your games,” Dick muttered. Slade shook his head, even if Dick couldn’t see it.

“Not that kind of game. Sleep, little bird. Your family is a consideration for tomorrow.”

Dick grumbled something but otherwise obediently closed his eyes. He fell asleep quickly, weary muscles settling into the sheets and breath evening out. He fell asleep so quickly, in fact, that even when he was lucid he didn’t seem to notice the plane tickets Slade had on the nightstand.

Oh, well. Dick had an opportunity to notice the soon-to-be-surprise trip that Slade had Wintergreen arrange. Wintergreen warned Slade that Dick may not appreciate the almost-kidnapping he was about to experience, but Slade insisted that Dick would forgive him once he saw some elephants. Besides, Tanzania was _lovely_ that time of year.


End file.
